‘Tits McGee’: Growing Up With Big Boobs ~ It distracts a little from the very serious nature of your subject when you tag your headline with one of the all-time funniest nicknames ever created for an amply-endowed lass. However, it’s perfectly understandable that you don’t appreciate the appellation’s amusing nature, as we imagine that even after all these years you still fail to see the humor in it.

Hey, Look At The Bright Side, Chesty–Not Many People Can Claim They’re A Human Life-Jacket.

My Dad Will Never Stop Smoking Pot~ Son, Daddy uses this forum to write silly jokes about the headlines to news stories he can’t be bothered to read. I appreciate you voicing your concerns, but we’ll talk about this a little later in private–okay, Sport?

Lance Armstrong Tells Oprah Winfrey Why He Doped ~ “Well, you see, Oprah, I made a lot more money when I won races, and the boys in R&D crunched some numbers and they discovered that I seemed to win more races when I was a chemically enhanced super-human. So, really–it was kind of a no-brainer.”

How much Neanderthal DNA do you have? Lots ~ “Jesus, Frank–there has GOT to be a better way to say that. Look, I had a couple of really unfortunate encounters during my time-travel adventures in the Pleistocene Era, and all I want to do right now is take a shower and try to forget about it.”

“Listen, Garrkkokk–I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Be Able To Trust You Again. It’s Times Like This When I Remember Why Our Two Species Diverged.”

Double-transplant patient loses legs ~ They’re not your fucking car keys, dude! Somebody went to a lot of trouble to get you those legs, and the least you can do is keep an eye on them.

“‘Short-man syndrome’ is real~ Given the tragic and debilitating nature of their shared genetic curse, we think it’s a remarkable display of perseverance most mornings for these nasty little creatures even to come skulking from their filthy dens into the bright light of day.

The Fact That You Rarely See Lawn Jockeys These Days Should Give You An Idea Of How Profoundly Offensive Shortness Has Become In Modern Society.

“Sorry, Chap–I Missed That Last Bit–Something About Drinking, I Think. And Did I Tell You About My License To Kill? Yeah, They Just Let Me Shoot Whomever I Please. It’s Great–I Don’t Even Have To Give A Reason. But Please–Do Go On.”

Why We Cry on Planes~ Because we–and here I mean me–are fucking terrified. Also uncomfortable. Seriously, can they design passenger class to accommodate the 5’8″-and-over crowd? And loosen up on the pot thing, of course.

What Julia Gillard did for Australia and sexism ~ Although Ms. Gillard has suffered a setback, her greatest legacy may have been to pound the final nail in the coffin of sexism. As she walks off into the sunset, political observers everywhere will no doubt take a moment or two to appreciate her cute little backside.

Woman convicted of torture, mayhem for severing husband’s penis ~We are opponents of capital punishment, believing it to be unnecessary and cruel, and that moreover it has proven ineffective in deterring crime. However, in this instance we feel wholly justified in gleefully wishing death upon this malicious tallywhacker snatcher.

An All-Asian Version of ‘Hello, Dolly!’ ~ Oh come on! You pick a play whose title JUST HAPPENS TO BE the two English words which sound funniest when spoken with an Asian accent, and you expect us to believe that’s just a coincidence?

By Smaktakula

JUST LIKE CHOCOLATE AND PEANUT BUTTER, SAD & FUNNY ARE TWO GREAT TASTES THAT TASTE GREAT TOGETHER!

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Look, We’re Not Saying The Apple Was Asking For It, But When You Leave The House Without Your Peel And Flaunt Your Pulp For Any Grape, Plum Or Cherry That Comes Along, Somebody’s Gonna Get Juiced.

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In The Hilarious Modern Remake Of “It’s A Wonderful Life,” Little Billy Gets To See What Life Would Be Like If He Had Never Been Born.

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Were You Looking For An Honest Answer Or Did You Want Me To Tell You Something That Won’t Creep You Out?

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“And This Is Where Jesus Likes To Set His Beer.”

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The Answer Is “U”, For “Duck.” Jan Feels That The Comically Over-Sized Mallard Helps To Distract From The Big Swingin’ Meat-Sword She Has Hidden Under That Dress.*

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While It Is Technically True That “A Picture Is Worth 1,000 Words,” It’s A Mistake To Assume That They’re All DIFFERENT Words. For Example, This Photo Just Says “I Will Go To My Lonely Grave Without Ever Having Known The Pleasure Of A Woman’s Touch” 58.823 Times.

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This Sign Proved A Mixed Blessing. On One Hand It Cruelly Mocked A Marginalized People And Reinforced Ignorant Stereotypes And Misapprehensions About Their Ancient Way Of Life. On The Plus Side, Since The Sign Remained In Place For Several Years, It Showed The World That There Are Some Things Even A Gypsy Won’t Steal.

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“You Look Adorable In Your Mermaid Costume, Sweetie. But Something’s Missing–It Doesn’t Proclaim To The World That I’m An Inappropriate Creep And Ridiculously Ill-Suited To Be A Father…Hey, That’s It! I’ve Got Just The Thing. Here, Try These On!”

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His Parents Have Tried Everything–Apple, Orange, Grape, Cranberry And Literally Every Product Ocean Spray Ever Made, But It’s No Use–That Kid Seems To Have A Pathological Hatred Of The Juice.

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PAN DOWN!!!! PAN DOWN!!!!

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I Camp Out In The Parking Lot On Most Nights To Get An Early Start In The Morning.

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* This image comes from back in my teaching days. I found it in a resource for first and second graders. Humanity, you are beautiful–don’t you ever change on us. ∞ T.

Sheriff’s Office: Man died after being pulled over ~ “I mean before! He died before he was pulled over. No wait–it was after, but…well, what the hell are we all doing sitting around flapping our jaws? A man’s been beaten to death and dumped in the back seat of a police cruiser–we need to be out there looking for the killers!”

Should Obamacare Be Repealed? Vote in Urgent National Poll ~ If we can get enough people to vote, we can repeal Obamacare! Yes–that’s what we’d be saying if the United States were more like American Idol, and just any uninformed wingnut with a hair up his ass could vote directly on pending legislation. In fact, the United States is a republic, which means you may need to look up the term fait accompli right after you vote in this urgent national poll.

By Tardsie

And A Little Gay If The Ponies Are To Be Believed.

I believe that friendship is important. It’s soul-affirming. A bad friendship is like a bad relationship–you’re better off not having it at all. But a good friendship is a powerful thing, and can help keep your ship afloat on rocky seas. I’ve been very lucky to have wonderful friends–dudes who have always accepted me for who I am (while mocking me for the same reason), who have loved me and seen me through some rough patches sandwiched in between a lot of kick-ass times. All this for a guy with as many faults as I have. Truly, I am not worthy.

On Wednesday, five of us gathered in LA for an impromptu remembrance of our friend Joe who died earlier this month. Of the four other guys, I’d seen three of them within the past six months. One guy I hadn’t seen in almost seventeen years, although it didn’t seem like that long. The last time we had all been together Bill Clinton had been president, and we were a pack of pot-smoking do-nothings with our whole lives ahead of us. Now we were pot-smoking do-nothings with families, careers and crow’s-feet. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time, and I laugh a lot.

It Was A Lot Like This, But With Better Music.

Being in the rejuvenating presence of such wonderful friends got me thinking about the bonds and boundaries of friendship, and how sometimes the tiniest things can make or break a friendship. It took me back to my junior year of college to a time when, through a mutual association, I’d met and become fast friends with a freshman who had started hanging out with our group, fitting in easily.

It was assumed this kid would pledge my fraternity. He had expressed interest, and was well-liked not only by myself but by many of the other members. But there was a snag. His older sister, who had just broken up with an alumnus from my fraternity, turned suddenly against us, and began to exert heavy pressure on her brother to join a different frat. He was conflicted: the other frat seemed to better represent the kind of guy he was coming out of high school (think the Omegas from Animal House), but he had so many promising friendships among us and just seemed to fit better.

I knew this was going on, and while I very much wanted him to come with us, I’d seen potential brothers scared away by the hard-sell, so I tried to express my opinions only when asked. I got that opportunity one day when we were hanging out.

“Hey,” he asked me one day, with no artifice, but definitely some trepidation, “If I pledge {Clan Douchebag}, we’ll still be friends, right?”

I Wouldn’t Even Be Able To Look At You The Same Way, Bro.

I looked at him seriously and said, “No. Not like we are now.” I could see he was a little stunned, and I could definitely understand, having been a freshman once. I explained that if he joined the other frat, we’d try to be friends, but that our two very different circles would intersect but rarely, and that usually, those meetings were acrimonious. As painful as it was, I told him that his choice might very well dictate the future of our blossoming friendship.

It Is The Natural Way Of Things, My Child.

I’ve lived a long time since then and learned a lot more about what it means to be a friend. I wonder: If that young man had asked me the same question today, what would I tell him? Gatherings like the one I just attended inevitably bring to mind not only who is there present among the gathered, but also, far more poignantly–who isn’t there who maybe should be.

And so I think of that long-ago kid with whom I had such a great rapport and with whom I took such an implacable stance with my friendship. I wonder how things might have happened differently. And sometimes, I wonder what that kid is doing now.

When I do, I usually just call him. He’s one of the guys I saw on Wednesday, and whom I see pretty regularly. We were each in the other’s weddings, and I’m godfather to his son. We’re the best of friends to this day.

When faced with that long-ago choice, he totally made the right one. Keep your friends close, and don’t have enemies if you can help it.

By Tardsie

I Have Always Believed Learning To Be A Life-Long Process.

Part The Last: In which we finally stop talking for a while.

After finishing my class-prep in the parking lot of a McDonald’s, I arrived for my 9:00 AM Drug School appointment with ten minutes to spare. I wanted this experience to run smoothly, and to antagonize the DS faculty by being late would only serve to put the relationship on a bad footing from the start. Despite these precautions and my generally optimistic nature, it was hard to believe that this experience would turn out any better than had my previous brushes with counseling. As it happens, I got lucky.

Except For Not Being A Nerdy White Dude With Glasses, She Was Exactly Like This.

I’d signed up for a private class, and after filling out a few forms was shown to a conference room where the instructor awaited me on the opposite side of a small table adorned with a fantail of legal documents, reference materials and drug quizzes. Carmen was a black woman in her early fifties, with a tailored suit that softened her heroic contours. She was not fat precisely, but possessed of a certain bigness which spoke to neither poor health nor indolence, and was simply formidable.

I told Carmen the circumstances which had brought me to Drug School, and she asked me what I thought about being there. I told her, “I know you probably hear this from almost everybody who comes through this program, but I don’t really think I need to be here.” She agreed that she did hear that a lot, and encouraged me to expound on what I’d said.

“I think it’s bullshit,” I said, explaining that for all their incompetent zeal, this was the best result the prosecution could muster, and sending me to Drug School was more an act of spite than honest concern for my welfare. Careful not to get off on the wrong foot, however, I added, “But I don’t mean to disrespect you.”

Carmen managed to look amused. “You don’t have the power to disrespect me,” she said. “Nobody can disrespect me unless I let them.” I was starting to really like this woman.

OH, I HEARD THAT!

One of the first questions she asked was about my drug and alcohol history, and about my current behavior. Although weed was the only bad behavior to which I’d have to confess at that time, I was worried that some of my past experiences would complicate matters. In addition to some heavy alcohol use in my late teens and a fondness sometime later for psychedelics, there were a few chemical enhancements that I’d tried once or twice which I feared were sufficiently heinous to set off her substance abuse warning system.

On the other hand, I knew that only by being honest would I derive any benefit from this experience, so I told her everything. When I was done, she said something that let me know she was a cut above the “professionals” to whom I’d previously spoken.

“Well,” she said, her voice slow and neutral, “From what I’m hearing, it sounds like you smoke too much marijuana.”

Seriously, How Difficult Was That? It Just Seemed Pretty Obvious From This End.

We did have one sticking point. “I’m confused,” she said, flipping through her files until she located my drug evaluation from Pee-Testers International. She looked up and gave me a hard stare, “Your evaluation indicates that you’re drug free, but from what you’re telling me, that’s not the case at all.”

I smiled. “I wasn’t as forthcoming with them as I have been with you.”

“I see,” she said, her face inscrutable and unsmiling.

But I Never Lied To You.

Exceeding even my wildest expectations, Drug School was done by 11:30. In fairness to both Carmen and the program, we covered a lot of material and I took several quizzes. I’m a fast test-taker, and it also helps to remember that the curriculum is hardly designed for Rhodes Scholars. Carmen and I talked quite a bit. She was informative, kind and frank.

“I want to thank you for creating an environment in which I could be honest,”¹ I told her. “I could have jobbed this, you know.”

She gave me my DS diploma and court certificate, and offered me a final piece of advice. “Listen,” she said, hesitant for the first and only time in our short acquaintance, “You probably didn’t really need to be here, but I want to make it clear to you that you smoke too much marijuana. It’s not good for your lungs.”

“I’ve started using a vaporizer,” I told her truthfully.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s much better for you.”

Seriously, Lady–My Body Is A Temple.

So kids, I’m hardly a role model. These things that I’ve done–please don’t do them. Not unless you want to be hella awesome like me. In the coda to this already-bloated series, Untruth & Consequences: Debriefing,² I’ll attempt to find a moral in these sordid episodes.

¹”B.S. Who talks like that?” I do–that’s an exact quote. The way I talk and the way I write are so very often misconstrued as ridiculously grandiloquent affectations. In fact, that’s just how God made me. Elderly ladies find it quite charming, in case you’d like to know. ∞ T.